


I May Lose the Battle (But You're Giving Me the Will to Try)

by loveinisolation



Category: Glee, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hummelinski, M/M, sort of season 2 AU (glee)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinisolation/pseuds/loveinisolation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Stiles really notices Kurt Hummel the boy is slumped against lockers in the rapidly emptying hall, ignored by everyone who walks past. Stiles wants to make himself move; wants to reach out his hand and help him to his feet and make sure he knows that someone sees him. Instead he just stands there, watching until the bell for class has rung and the boy has hoisted himself to his feet and shuffled off down the hall, shoulders hunched dejectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU from season 2 of Glee, though the timeline/details aren’t exactly the same. Kurt never visited the Warblers and therefore doesn’t know Blaine. Carole and Burt are married but the realizations that happened in Furt regarding Kurt being bullied haven’t happened.
> 
> Initial inspiration from this fanvid - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsAkKdhVnnE
> 
> Title adapted from Billy Joel's "The Night is Still Young" and is fairly irrelevant.

The first time Stiles really _notices_ Kurt Hummel – notices him in a way beyond basic recognition and knowledge that they’ve had classes together before – Stiles is just coming back from chemistry and heading towards his locker to grab books for his next class. He half jogs around the corner trying to make it on time and nearly runs right into a burly football player before he spins out of the way. By the time he rights himself the hallway is emptying rapidly, but Stiles can’t quite make himself move down the hall. Instead he stares, nearly transfixed, at the yellow-clad figure of a boy slumped against nearby lockers, ignored by everyone who walks past.

Stiles wants to make himself move; wants to reach out his hand and help the boy to his feet and make sure he knows that someone _sees_ him. Instead he just stands there, watching until the bell for class has rung and the boy has hoisted himself to his feet and shuffled off down the hall, shoulders hunched dejectedly.

Stiles arrives nine minutes late to class and can hardly muster a muttered apology when Ms. Jeffreys raises one eyebrow at him and says, “You’re later than usual today, Mr. Stilinski,” in a voice that says she has long since resigned herself to Stiles’ inability to be on time. Stiles spends the entire class thinking about what he knows about the boy from the hall. He knows the boy’s name is Kurt, thinks his dad might be the mechanic in town, knows that they’ve been going to the same school for years but their social circles have never really crossed.

Stiles thinks maybe he wishes that their paths had crossed more, because then they might have a reason to speak.

***

Stiles watches Kurt over the next days, he can’t help it. He discovers quickly that Kurt holds himself a certain way – tall and confident – as much as possible, but Stiles knows it is at least partially an act. He has seen the way Kurt’s whole frame collapses inwards and the despair that crosses his face when no one is really watching.

These things become obvious to Stiles. Just like it becomes obvious that Kurt is largely invisible to the population at large, and that even the boy’s friends don’t seem to see the pain etched into the lines of his face and the movements of his body. Either Kurt is usually better at hiding it, or even his friends don’t really _look._

***

“Dude, that’s getting creepy.” Scott’s voice pulls Stiles out of his observing (it’s not _staring_ , or _stalking_ no matter what Scott says. Stiles is just … interested), and Stiles splutters for a moment.

“It’s not – I’m not. It’s not _creepy_.” Stiles’s voice rises and he crosses his arms and huffs.

Allison sets her tray on the cafeteria table next to Scott’s and she gives Stiles a look. He knows he looks like a petulant child, but where does Scott get off calling him creepy? It’s not like Scott was exactly subtle when he was trying to get Allison to notice him. “Is this about Kurt Hummel?” Allison asks. Stiles glares at Scott who raises his hands defensively. “He didn’t say anything to me; I’ve just seen you looking at him. It took me a couple days to figure it out once I realized you weren’t watching Lydia prance around in her Cheerios uniform like usual.”

Stiles can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks and he makes an irritated sound, glancing one last time over at Kurt where he’s sitting at a table of kids from glee club. Somehow Kurt looks isolated even sitting there among his friends, like none of them notice that he’s turning into a shadow of a person.

“You should talk to him,” Allison says, breaking Stiles out of his thoughts once again, “I think he could use a friend.”

***

It’s another week before Stiles actually does anything other than observe Kurt from a distance (and yeah, maybe he does feel a little creepy about it but he can’t quite bring himself to stop). It’s after school and the halls are very nearly devoid of people, but Stiles forgot his math textbook and so after practice he makes the trek back to his locker to find it.

He knows there are still other people in the school; he hears voices arguing as he passes the choir room, and strange noises coming from a classroom (it sounds like some sort of illicit rendezvous and Stiles _almost_ pauses to peek through the tiny window in the door), but he doesn’t actually see anyone until he’s nearly at his locker. Just before he rounds the corner there’s a loud crash and Stiles startles, flailing and nearly dropping his bag before he breaks into a run.

He makes it to the next hallway over just in time to see a letterman jacket disappearing around the far corner. It takes him another moment to see the figure on the floor but he knows right away that it’s Kurt. He’s clearly trying to take up the smallest possible amount of space, all curled in on himself with his arms clenched around his knees, surely thinking that no one is around to see.

Stiles feels his stomach clench at the sight and it stops him short. He stands stock still for a too-long moment and then nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get down the hall. Kurt must hear the commotion (Stiles is far too capable of making a mob’s worth of noise all on his own, so it isn’t surprising Kurt heard him), because his whole body jerks in fear and his head whips up so fast it nearly smacks into the lockers Kurt is propped up against.  

Kurt seems to relax minutely when he catches sight of Stiles, realizes it isn’t whoever hurt him (because it’s clear to Stiles that _someone_ has hurt Kurt), but he’s still tense and guarded, fearful in a way that he usually keeps hidden under a mask of self-assurance. Stiles keeps moving until he’s right in front of the other boy and then he does what he didn’t get the chance to do the last time; he extends his hand and helps Kurt off the floor.

It doesn’t happen quite as easily as Stiles would have liked – Kurt obviously does not trust easily, nor does he often accept help – and for a long moment he just _looks_ as the extended hand before he tentatively reaches out his own. Stiles hauls the boy off the floor as carefully as he can, watching as Kurt winces and moves stiffly at every movement.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, feeling a surge of disappointment when Kurt’s hand pulls out of his and the mask Kurt wears on a daily basis slips back into place. The mask isn’t quite right, Kurt’s eyes are still red and his hands are shaking visibly, but he’s shuttered his emotions and Stiles thinks he’s already resigning himself to being invisible once more.

“I’m fine.” Kurt says, his voice thick but resolute. Stiles watches him brush off his clothes with efficient movements and recognizes the way  Kurt purposefully keeps his eyes down and refuses to meet Stiles’s gaze.

“Ok,” Stiles whispers, “if you’re sure.” Stiles puts one hand on Kurt’s shoulder, sees the slight flinch and then the way Kurt’s eyes look at the hand on his shoulder watching it with a look that Stiles can’t quite identify but that breaks his heart just a little. Stiles takes his hand back after a few seconds and drops it at his side, fingers tingling with the desire to reach out again and offer comfort. Do you, uh,” Stiles pauses, hand rubbing at the back of his head, “do you need a ride home. Or something?”

A long moment of silence stretches between them. Kurt’s eyes flicker briefly across Stiles’s face and the down to his own hands where he has them clasped in front of him. “I don’t even know your name,” Kurt says eventually.

“Oh, Stiles!” He’s far too enthusiastic about sharing his name if the look on Kurt’s face is anything to go by.  Stiles rubs a hand through his hair and stutters out, “is … me,” as though Kurt wouldn’t have understood what he meant.

“I’m Kurt.”

“I know,” Stiles admits, “we’ve, uh, had classes together before.”

“Right,” Kurt mouths near silently, ducking his head again. Stiles thinks maybe Kurt looks a little embarrassed at not knowing Stiles’s name even though Stiles knew his, but it isn’t like they’ve ever really been introduced. Stiles wonders how much harder it must be to pay attention to things like the names of random people in your classes when you’re putting so much energy into looking like you’re confident about who you are, while being invisible to the people who seem to object to exactly that.

“So, did you want a ride or?”  Stiles gestures down the hall, watches Kurt bite his lip contemplatively. Kurt pulls his phone out of his pocket and lights up the screen, nodding even though he still hasn’t looked at Stiles again, his eyes cast down or purposefully off to one side.

“My step-brother is supposed to drive me, but Glee isn’t over for another hour and I would really … I really just want to go home.” Kurt sounds composed, but his voice is small and he looks exhausted all of a sudden, like maybe not having to go back and face his friends is kind of a relief. Stiles’s stomach twists a little in sadness at the thought; friends are supposed to be the people you can be yourself around, not the ones you have to put on a front for.  

“Ok! I’ll take you home.” Stiles knows he sounds too enthusiastic for the situation, but he’s really never been good at hiding much of anything he’s feeling; excitement of any sort tends to come bubbling out of him in a fit of (somewhat spastic) energy.  Kurt must agree, because he gives Stiles a slightly odd, almost disbelieving look. Stiles quirks a smile at Kurt and begins walking down the hall in the direction he knows Kurt’s locker to be.

Kurt grabs his things from his locker and quickly taps out a message on his phone before turning to Stiles as if searching for instruction. It takes Stiles a moment to clue in that Kurt _is_ , in fact, waiting for instruction, because he doesn’t know where Stiles is parked. 

Ok, so Stiles _might_ have been a little distracted by being able to look at Kurt with just a couple of feet between them instead of from across a room or down a hallway full of people. Kurt’s just … really attractive from this close up.  He’s got these super blue eyes and just the faintest smattering of freckles across his nose and that is somehow weirdly cute (and really Stiles isn’t used to thinking people’s features are _cute_ – with Lydia it was always mostly about the way her curves filled out the skimpy cheer uniform, and that image is still, well, _really fantastic_ , but for some reason Kurt’s freckles are more interesting).

“So, um, where are you parked?" Kurt asks quietly after another too-long moment has passed.

Stiles shakes his head, blinking rapidly to bring himself back to a less ramblingly inappropriate thought path. “Oh, uh, my car is out front.” Kurt just nods, suddenly looking more nervous than before.

They get out to the front of the school and Kurt’s steps suddenly seem to slow and then stop completely. Stiles looks back at him from a few steps ahead, pausing to turn and cock his head in question. “Everything okay?” he asks. Kurt looks too scared all of a sudden and Stiles hates it because he wanted to _stop_ Kurt from looking scared, and instead he’s somehow made him look absolutely terrified.

“Maybe,” Kurt starts, “maybe I should just wait for my step-brother.”

“Kurt, he won’t be done for at least 45 minutes.” Kurt’s got his arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he’s trying to protect himself and his eyes are wide and worried.

“It’s probably way out of your way; you really don’t have to –” Kurt looks like he’s panicking; trying, and failing, to look composed and confident. Stiles can see the way his eyes are darting around as if he’s searching for someone hiding just off to the side ready to attack. And maybe that is _exactly_ what Kurt is looking for.

Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to figure out what to say. When he speaks his voice comes out far more subdued than usual. “Kurt, I really don’t mind driving you home. I get if you don’t want a ride from someone you don’t really know ...” Stiles sighs, shoulders sagging in resignation, “but I really don’t mind.”  Kurt’s eyes linger on Stiles for a long moment and then his posture softens and the lines of his face morph into something almost like sadness. Kurt nods once – a single decisive jerk of his head – and then he steps forward and continues on towards the car.

Stiles follows just a step behind and they settle into the car in uncertain silence. “So, uh, where am I taking you?” Stiles asks.

“Oh, um, towards town? I live a street over from the tire shop. The one near the plaza, not the one by the Presbyterian church.”

“That’s your dad’s shop, right?” Kurt nods, looking over at Stiles. The look on his face is like he’s trying to figure Stiles out; like he wants to know _why_ Stiles would know that information and why he would even care. “I think I met your dad actually, seems like a nice guy. He gave me a good deal when I brought my baby in over the summer.” Stiles taps his hand fondly against the steering wheel of his Jeep before he resettles his grip.

“He’s really great.” Kurt says, affection clear in his still-quiet voice. Stiles glances over at him; looks away from the road long enough to see the expression on Kurt’s face and recognize it as one he sometimes wears himself.

“You worry about him, don’t you? Your dad, I mean.” Stiles sees Kurt’s nod in his peripheral vision, but the other boy stays silent. “Me too. I worry about my dad. It’s just him and me so I try to take care of him; don’t tell him about bad things that happen, force him to eat healthy food and drink less beer and all that stuff. He hates it, but I don’t think I could stand to lose him, too.” Stiles is rambling and oversharing, but it doesn’t matter because Kurt is watching him – Stiles can feel the gaze on the side of his face – and he’s listening to what Stiles is saying.

When they stop at a red light Stiles looks over and meets Kurt’s eyes and he can feel a connection, a pull of understanding between them that he’s never really had with anyone before. Scott is amazing and knows pretty much everything about Stiles, but there are things he just doesn’t understand; not the way Stiles knows Kurt does.

They pull up at Kurt’s house a few minutes later, the rest of the drive having been companionably silent. Kurt smiles softly, less guarded now, and says quietly, “thanks for the ride, Stiles.” Stiles grins, broad and full-fledged in reply.

Just as the car door is about to close Stiles says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.” Kurt fumbles for a moment, pausing with his hand still on the door. He looks at Stiles through the window and then nods, his smile tugging up shyly at the corners. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed my prediction for the number of chapters this will have! Partly because I decided that it makes more sense for me to break it into more, somewhat shorter, chapters. Hopefully doing so will mean I can post a new bit every few days :)

Stiles bounds down the hall the next morning and accosts Scott and Allison where they’re tangled together in front of a locker that is actually about half a row down from Scott’s (it really isn’t that surprising since the pair of them tend to get disgustingly wrapped up in each other and not think about anything around them). Scott looks disgruntled when Stiles interrupts them but at least Allison smiles at him and tells him good morning. Usually Stiles ignores them until homeroom because otherwise Scott gets grouchy, but today he doesn’t care even though Scott is pretty much glaring at him.

Observant as always, Allison takes one look at the grin on Stiles’s face and says, “You talked to him didn’t you.”  Stiles bounces on his toes a little and nods enthusiastically.

“I drove him home yesterday. And I mean, yeah, it was a little awkward and stuff, but still.” Allison smiles, shaking her head slightly but obviously not at all distressed with the situation. Unlike Scott, whose face seems to have morphed into a grimace.

“Dude, that’s seriously weird. You don’t even know him and you drove him home? How does that even happen?” Allison gives Scott a pointed look, but Stiles just ignores his friend’s annoyance in favour of his own excitement.  Stiles gives the two of them (mostly Allison, since Scott seems disinclined to care about anything other than having had his morning make out session interrupted) a quick rundown of how he ended up driving Kurt home. He leaves out the multiple incidences of bullying he has now indirectly witnessed, simply glossing over details instead. Stiles hasn’t even actually _seen_ much of anything, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what’s going on with Kurt – he’s seen and heard enough over the past couple weeks that he is able to fill in the blanks. After he tells them what happened, Stiles abandons Scott and Allison to each other once again and goes in search of Kurt instead.

***

Stiles doesn’t manage to find Kurt before the warning bell for homeroom sounds, and even though he has a well-founded reputation for being late he’s pretty sure Kurt doesn’t and so it wouldn’t do him much good to keep looking when Kurt is probably already in class.

Stiles looks for Kurt during breaks between classes; hopes to see him in the halls but never does.  He doesn’t manage to even catch a glimpse of Kurt until lunch when he sees Kurt disappearing around a corner with a pretty, curvy girl while Stiles is at his open locker. Stiles settles at a table in the cafeteria with his friends, happy to see that Scott is quite apparently in a better mood when he ribs Stiles happily about something or other.

Stiles becomes distracted by the fact that Kurt isn’t sitting with the other glee kids; it makes him feel jittery and a little worried knowing the things that happen in the halls. He scarfs down the rest of his lunch paying little attention to the conversation around him. Stiles trips in his rush to go searching for Kurt; gets his toes caught on the bench of the cafeteria table and nearly goes sprawling onto the floor. He rights himself quickly, ignoring his friends and their good natured teasing, and heads off in search of the boy he’s determined to figure out.

Stiles doesn’t see Kurt in the relatively empty halls of the school, nor does the boy seem to be in the choir room, the auditorium, or any of the other places that Stiles thinks to check. Stiles tries not to panic, he really doesn’t even know Kurt but he already feel so much and worries more than is probably reasonable.

Stiles stops for a moment and leans against the nearest lockers trying to calm his thoughts. He lets his eyes drop closed and takes deep breaths, one hand dragging through his hair in frustration. He’s frustrated with himself, he thinks, because he’s way too invested and isn’t that just typical? Stiles knows that he tends to get too caught up in other people. He comes off as a spaz, which is fine by him and it’s true, but people tend to miss the fact that he puts himself on the line all the time; that he gets himself in deep before the person he’s caught up in even knows he exists.

He’s buried in thoughts, feeling overwhelmed and exhausted by his own mind when he’s brought out of it by someone shuffling up beside him and saying a quiet “hi.” Stiles blinks his eyes open only to find the one person he’s been searching for all day standing right in front of him. Stiles looks at Kurt and sees the mask of self-assurance firmly in place, even though Kurt’s eyes flitter around the hall every few seconds to keep track of his surroundings. “I saw you here so I just thought – I just wanted to thank you for driving me home yesterday,” Kurt says. 

“Yeah, no problem. Anytime!” Stiles tells him. He wants to smack himself for how overenthusiastic he gets about the most random things. But Kurt is talking to him voluntarily and that’s kind of awesome, so Stiles thinks maybe he has reason to be excited.

There’s a slight smile on Kurt’s face, his lips tilted up in a way that is restrained but still speaks of something beyond politeness. The silence stretches between them for a beat, just shy of awkward when they both begin speaking at once. Both boys cut off abruptly, and there’s a second of fumbling quiet before they chuckle, smiles growing on their lips. “Sorry, what were you going to say?” Kurt asks eventually.

“Oh, um,” Stiles knows exactly what he was going to say but suddenly his courage has dwindled and he ends up stammering and rubbing a hand over the back of his head, mussing his grown-out hair in a way he still forgets about. He blows out a breath, knowing Kurt’s curious eyes are watching him but not quite able to meet them. “D’you want to, uh, hang out sometime?”

Stiles glances up and catches the moment of achingly clear wonder that crosses Kurt’s features before he schools them; snaps his lips shut where they had parted, and dims the light in his eyes. It’s almost physically painful for Stiles watching Kurt do that and seeing how carefully Kurt constructs and maintains a façade that keeps people out – that keeps people from hurting him more than he’s already been hurt. 

“I –” Kurt’s voice cuts off when the boy’s eyes flicker down the hall and catch on someone. Stiles watches Kurt track the progress of a burly jock approaching them and sees the way his face screws up momentarily and then relaxes, shoulders drooping in relief, when the jock’s route takes him around a corner before he reaches them.  Kurt murmurs something that sounds like an apology and then looks back at Stiles. “I should go,” he says, voice quiet but resolute.

Kurt takes a single step backwards and then pauses long enough that Stiles knows he doesn’t actually want to just walk away. Finally, Kurt turns and begins walking down the hall away from Stiles.

It takes a moment for Stiles to jump into motion, but then he’s taking off running down the hall to catch up in a few long strides. “Hey, Kurt, wait!” Kurt doesn’t stop, but he slows and lets Stiles settle into walking at his side. The moment he’s walking next to Kurt, Stiles almost immediately starts babbling and can’t get himself to stop. “You didn’t answer me before about hanging out. And, I mean, I totally get it if you don’t want to, but I was kind of hoping that you would because I think it would be kind of awesome. I don’t really know what you like to do outside of school – or in school for that matter – but I’m up for whatever you want to do, we could just grab coffee or something, or y’know my dad would totally be cool with it if you wanted to just come hang out and watch movies or something because I’m pretty sure he thinks my only friend is Scott which isn’t true at all. And –” Thankfully Kurt cuts him off before he can say even more, because Stiles is pretty sure that otherwise he’s about to start heading into territory of things you shouldn’t say to someone you don’t want to scare off. If he hasn’t managed to scare Kurt off already with his uncontrolled rambling.

“Stiles?” Kurt stops suddenly and Stiles has to spin in place and take a couple steps back towards him. Kurt looks at Stiles appraisingly, biting his lip gently in contemplation before seeming to make up his mind. “I have glee tonight, but I’m free after school tomorrow.” Stiles bounces on the balls of his feet and he can feel a grin taking over his features. “But we’re not going for coffee,” Kurt says, giving a pointed, but obviously teasing, look at the way Stiles is nearly vibrating on the spot, “pretty sure I don’t need to know what happens if you have caffeine.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not entirely certain how long this is going to end up being. I'm predicting 6 chapters, but I'm just working on number 5 now and it might end up longer than that. I do not know, we shall see. It's nice to see that there are others who seem to enjoy this pairing too, since I really enjoy writing them :)

The next day absolutely drags. Stiles can’t focus on anything in class and gets called out on it by teachers more than once over the course of the morning. No matter how hard he tries, Stiles can’t keep his mind on grammar or integers, and invariably ends up staring into space only to be brought back out of it at the clanging bell marking the end of another class he somehow missed.

At lunch Allison smiles sweetly at Stiles when he tells her about his plans with Kurt, her hand squeezing Stiles’s arm encouragingly. Even Scott manages to look genuinely happy for Stiles, though he garners a gentle smack and a pointed expression from Allison when he mutters, “you had better not let him beat all my high scores on Just Dance,” not quite under his breath enough to not be heard.

Stiles scrunches up his nose and stares at his best friend, watching Scott be silently reprimanded by the message flashing in Allison’s eyes. “Wait, is that why you’ve been such a grouch about the whole Kurt thing?” Stiles asks, suddenly understanding Scott’s sullen reactions. “Dude, I’m not replacing you!” Scott grumbles, arms crossed over his chest petulantly and causing Allison to roll her eyes. “Seriously, Scott, you hang out with Allison all the time and you’re not trying to replace me with her, right?”

“Of course not. But it’s different …” Allison huffs, looking like she’s trying not to laugh and Stiles takes a turn rolling his eyes at Scott. Scott sits there, Allison at his side and Stiles across the table both watching him and waiting him out while he takes his time deciding to not be weirdly jealous. Eventually Scott lets out a breath and slumps a bit before he says, “sorry I’ve been an ass.” 

Stiles grins across the table and holds out a fist for Scott to bump his own against. “S’ok, man,” Stiles tells him. “Want to come over Saturday? I still haven’t tried the last few songs on Just Dance 4, and I need to reclaim my title as champion on that Bollywood song.”

“Ha, you wish!” Scott declares with a grin, and just like that any lingering tension between them is forgotten.  Stiles is more than happy to let it go without another word if it means being able to talk to his best friend again without feeling like he’s putting a strain on their friendship whenever he brings up Kurt (and honestly, Stiles really doesn’t think that he’s capable of _not_ mentioning Kurt at this point).

***

Stiles catches up with Kurt in the hall before last period, a little nervous that Kurt will have changed his mind about hanging out after school. “Hey, Kurt!” he says, and Kurt turns his head and glances over his shoulder but doesn’t move from in front of his open locker.

“Oh, hi.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re still up for doing something after school …” Stiles trails off, trying not to let himself start rambling.

Kurt shoves a book haphazardly into his locker with just a little too much force to be casual, and when Stiles really looks he can see the tense lines of Kurt’s body, even hidden under layers of his clothes. Stiles reaches out carefully with one hand and touches the back of Kurt’s shoulder lightly. There’s a moment where Kurt flinches under the touch, and then the tension dissipates and Kurt is left leaning into his locker with an almost defeated air about him. When he speaks his voice is quiet and a little rough. “Is it okay if we just go to one of our houses or something?” he asks, and Stiles immediate starts nodding in agreement. “I don’t really feel up to going out.”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine!” Stiles declares, only too happy that Kurt isn’t cancelling their plans outright. “Your place or mine?” he asks, and then backpedals when he realizes how that phrasing sounds. “I don’t – ah, I don’t mean it like _that_ I just mean …” Stiles runs through phrasings in his head and groans in frustration at his inability to choose words that don’t sound like he’s propositioning Kurt. Which, yeah he’d be all for it, but that’s not the point.

“Um, Finn will be home and I don’t really want to deal with him right now, so,” Kurt’s already quiet voice trails off into silence.

“My house then,” Stiles says just as the warning bell rings. “I’ll meet you back here after class?” Stiles waits until Kurt has nodded once in agreement and then he takes off to his own locker, already half-way to being late for class.

***

At the end of class Stiles bolts out of the room and to his locker, grabbing everything he needs from it as fast as he possibly can. He ends up standing in front of Kurt’s locker before the boy has even made it there from his own class. He probably looks like an overenthusiastic puppy standing there waiting with a grin on his face (he _feels_ a little like an overenthusiastic puppy) but he honestly doesn’t care, especially when Kurt rounds the corner and ducks his head to a hide a smile when he sees Stiles already standing there.

Stiles manages to stand still for all of about a minute before he starts bouncing on his toes while Kurt fishes notebooks and the occasional hair product out of his locker and tucks them into his satchel. Kurt quirks a teasing smile at him after the first few bounces, and Stiles thinks he hears a chuckle when Kurt has his head buried back in his locker. Stiles revels in the sound and the fact that Kurt looks _happy_.

They make it out to Stiles’s Jeep without incident and tension seems to seep from Kurt’s body the farther they get from the school. He tenses up again when they reach Stiles’s house. Kurt has his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and he looks a little uncertain, glancing around skittishly as they enter the house.  Stiles tries his best to be a good host and hopes that Kurt will relax once he gets used to his surroundings. (He tries not to compare Kurt to the stories Scott tells him about scared, injured animals who are brought into the vet clinic when he’s volunteering, but the comparison _is_ rather uncanny.)

“Do you want tea or um, I think we have orange juice? Or water.” Stiles says as he fishes a bag of baby carrots and a tub of hummus from the fridge. He would rather have chips, but he doesn’t keep much junk food in the house because his dad is bound to eat it if he does.           

Stiles’s plan seems to be working because Kurt seems to be relaxing in increments, though his eyes are still wide and unsure when he looks at Stiles. “Tea would be amazing if it isn’t too much trouble,” Kurt says. Stiles bobs his head and turns to fill the kettle, because _of course_ it isn’t too much trouble. But then he thinks there probably isn’t a whole lot he wouldn’t do for Kurt (and isn’t that a dangerous thought path – he barely even knows this boy).

They both get steaming mugs of earl grey and then they move to the living room. Kurt perches on the edge of the couch, barely even sitting on the cushion and feet firmly planted on the floor while Stiles wanders over to retrieve the book full of DVDs from its place near the TV.

“Here, pick whatever you want. I mean, if you’re okay with watching a movie,” he says while holding the black case out towards Kurt. Kurt stares for a slightly too-long moment before he nods, setting his tea on the low table in front of him and taking the case from Stiles.

Stiles busies himself with getting the DVD player set to go but watches Kurt out of the corner of his eye the entire time. Kurt flips carefully through the pages of DVD sleeves – Stiles usually just flicks them across without much regard for potential damage, but Kurt carefully transfers the pages from one hand to the other and lays them down gently – and Stiles can’t help but be sort of mesmerized by the care he puts into every action.

After he has flipped through every page filled with movies, Kurt flips back to one right near the beginning and pulls out a disc, taking it over to the open DVD player rather than handing it off to Stiles. When the title screen comes up Kurt looks over at Stiles questioningly. “Is this okay? You can put on something else if it’s not.” Stiles smiles and hits play, settling back into the cushions as the opening of _Titanic_ plays across the screen.

They watch the first few minutes in silence, but Stiles has never been particularly good with silence so eventually he starts talking. “Did you know that they actually had to develop a deep-sea camera system to get these shots,” he asks. Kurt glances over, eyes straying only briefly from the screen before he shakes his head. Stiles starts sharing more bits of trivia as the movie progresses, thrilled when he manages to draw a giggling laugh from Kurt. Stiles is even more thrilled when Kurt responds to one of his bits of trivia with one of his own about Leonardo DiCaprio, and from there a conversation suddenly takes shape.

By the time Jack is proclaiming himself king of the world, Kurt’s posture has completely changed. He’s folded up on the couch and tucked right into the corner of the cushions with his mug cupped in his hands looking cozy and completely at ease. Stiles wants to scoot across the couch and snuggle into his side, but he resists the urge, tucking his hands under his own thighs to keep from reaching out for Kurt.

They’ve been talking and laughing their way through the movie – through the growing romance between Rose and Jack, and into the beginning of the end – but as the ship continues to sink, a new kind of quiet draws over them. It isn’t awkward, but there is a shared tension brought on by the melancholy of the film.

At some point, Stiles starts sniffling back tears and using the sleeve of his hoodie to surreptitiously wipe at the corner of his eye. After a few minutes of itm he stands abruptly from the couch and heads to the kitchen, returning with a tub of chocolate peanut butter ice cream and two spoons. Kurt gives him a strange look (slightly dampened by the tears obviously threatening in his eyes) and Stiles shrugs and holds a spoon out to him.

Stiles settles back onto the couch, far closer to Kurt than he had been before though it’s only so that they can both reach the tub of ice cream. “My mom and I used to do this when my dad was working the night shift. He’d leave and we would watch rom coms and sad movies and eat our way through a tub of ice cream.” He shrugs again, digging his spoon into the ice cream and not looking up at Kurt.

“I wish I’d had more opportunity to do stuff like that with my mom, she died when I was 7.” Stiles glances up to meet Kurt’s eyes and gives the boy a sad little half smile. Neither of them apologize or feel the need to explain, they just understand one another without needing to say anything else.

They eat the melting ice cream quietly until Kurt speaks up – a little tentative, as if he’s worried about overstepping – “I know it’s not the same, but if you ever want someone to watch sad movies and eat ice cream with you …”

“I would love that,” Stiles tells him, uncharacteristically calm and quiet. For a suspended moment they just smile at each other, and then Kurt ducks his head shyly and they return to watching the movie. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter to all of those who celebrate it! 
> 
> I've been working on chapter 5, but it has been a little slow going. I should have it done soon, but apologies if it takes a little longer for the next update.

The Sheriff arrives home to find two teenage boys curled up on the couch with tear-stained cheeks and the last melted remnants of the peanut butter ice cream (the one he doesn’t like, which is the only reason Stiles will even keep it in the house) on the coffee table in front of them. Stiles turns from his spot on the couch and greets his dad with a quiet, “hey.”

“Hey kid,” his dad says, walking over to the couch. He nods questioningly towards Kurt who is tucked into a ball and dozing against the arm of the sofa.

Stiles looks over at the sleeping boy and doesn’t quite manage to keep the affectionate smile off his face. “I think it was kind of a rough day for him.” Stiles doesn’t say anything more about it knowing that his father, as sheriff, would jump into action at the mention of some of the things Stiles knows have happened to Kurt. (Truthfully, that almost makes him _want_ to tell his dad all about it, but he hasn’t actually seen anything first hand, nor is Stiles certain it’s his place to say anything at all.)

His dad makes a gesture towards the kitchen and Stiles knows well enough to follow so they can talk without disturbing Kurt. “So who is he?”

“Kurt Hummel.”

“The mechanic’s kid, right?” Stiles bobs his head in confirmation. “Nice guy, Burt Hummel. I’ve been called over there a few times to do reports on minor property damage and the like; lawn furniture being nailed to the roof, that sort of thing.” Stiles hates hearing that. He hates knowing that people not only harass Kurt in the halls at school (which is more than bad enough) but that they also make attacks on his home – the one place where he should be able to feel safe no matter what. Because there’s no way it _isn’t_ the same people.

“Um, when was the last time something like that happened?” Stiles asks, trying to sound nonchalant even as he feels his throat getting tight.

His dad thinks on it for a few moments before answering. “A little under a year, I’d say. We never caught the guys, so I guess whoever was doing it finally smartened up.” Stiles aches with sadness, because he knowsbeyond a doubt that it isn’t that the guys smartened up, it’s that Kurt somehow convinced them to stop doing things to him that he couldn’t hide from his father.

Stiles may worry about his dad, may be willing to take an awful lot on his own shoulders in order to lighten the burden on his father’s, but Kurt’s willingness to take abuse – actual _physical_ abuse – to shield his dad from the worry and the pain of it is well beyond anything Stiles has ever imagined.

Stiles sees his dad watching him closely when he looks up, and he knows his worry must read clearly on his face. It looks like his dad is about to ask something, but then his eyes shift just over Stiles’s shoulder and Stiles knows Kurt must have come in effectively stopping whatever words were coming.

Kurt looks sleepy and disoriented, drowsiness softening his sharp edges and making him appear vulnerable and young in a way Stiles hasn’t seen before. Stiles smiles at him, just slightly too tense for it to look anything but forced though Kurt doesn’t seem to notice the stress, waving Kurt forward before turning back to his dad.

“Kurt, this is my dad, Sheriff Stilinski,” Stiles introduces.

Kurt steps forward, holds out a hand and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Sheriff.” Stiles watches his dad shake the proffered hand, looking slightly startled at the formality of Kurt’s handshake and tone.

Kurt steps back and turns his head to address Stiles. “I’m sorry for falling asleep like that. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I actually was.”

“Don’t worry about it. Obviously you needed the rest, and besides you looked so peaceful.” Kurt blushes at Stiles’s words, and Stiles can see his dad looking between the two of them appraisingly.

“Have you boys eaten dinner yet?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I’ll whip something up,” he tells his dad before turning to Kurt again. “Do you want to stay?” It takes Kurt a moment to respond, and then the boy is nodding his head, and Stiles is giving him an answering grin.

The Sheriff goes to clean up and change out of his uniform, and Stiles gets started on dinner. Kurt calls home to let his dad know he’s staying, and then he joins Stiles in the kitchen, wordlessly picking up the spare knife to help prepare dinner. The two of them work in companionable near-silence, chattering occasionally over the kitchen radio playing top-forty hits.

Stiles is chopping onion to add to the stir fry, hardly even aware of the music in the background until Kurt starts singing along. It’s just a Lady Gaga song, one Stiles has heard a hundred times, but it has never once sounded like _this_ before. Kurt isn’t singing loudly, but his voice is high and clear, and Stiles stops chopping to stare, open-mouthed and stunned. He knew, theoretically, that Kurt could sing. But knowing that Kurt is in glee club and actually _hearing_ him sing right there in Stiles’s kitchen are two very different things. 

After a few more bars Kurt seems to realize that Stiles is watching him. He turns, face lit with a blush, to look at Stiles, who is still gaping at him. Kurt ducks his head in the way Stiles is beginning to recognize as the way he does when he is embarrassed.

“God, Kurt,” Stiles says, unable to find more words. Kurt’s blush intensifies and he flicks his eyes up to watch Stiles. The silence stretches between them until Stiles pulls his thoughts together. “I didn’t know you could sing like that.” Kurt shrugs; noncommittal. “You’re amazing,” Stiles tells him. The words kind of fall from him without thought, but even if he’s slightly embarrassed by having said them the shift on Kurt’s face – just a little bit brighter and more comfortable – is completely worth it.

There’s another long moment where neither of them speak, and then Kurt turns back to cutting up vegetables, and they fall into a rhythm of chopping in time to the music, giggling as they do.

***

Dinner passes relatively easily, though it is clear to Stiles that Kurt is less comfortable with his dad than he is with Stiles. Kurt answers questions and participates in the conversation, but he’s a little reserved, and Stiles can tell how carefully he’s choosing his words.  Just the same, it’s nice – _really_ nice – to have someone new to share dinner with, because so often it’s just Stiles and his dad (and that’s usually enough, but sometimes it still feels like someone is missing).

It’s late by the time they’re clearing up the dishes. Kurt calls his dad to come pick him up and they finish putting dishes away while they wait. When Mr. Hummel arrives, it’s the Sheriff who answers the door, and by the time Kurt and Stiles make it to the entryway from the kitchen, the two men are chatting amiably like old friends catching up after time apart. Stiles finds it almost disconcerting how well the two men get on, and he wonders for a moment just how many times his dad got called over to the Hummel house to do reports on one incident or another.

Stiles introduces himself to Mr. Hummel; shakes his hand and tries to make a good impression. The man looks gruff, but there’s something almost comforting about him (Stiles thinks it might be the similarities he can see between Mr. Hummel and his own father). That sense of comfort is only enhanced when Mr. Hummel huffs and then tells Stiles to call him Burt; a definite amused sparkle in his eyes.

Stiles backs off again after that, letting the older men talk while Kurt collects his things. Stiles can’t help but watch him; enjoying the contented little smile on Kurt’s face, and the grace he possesses even when slipping on his jacket.

Stiles doesn’t miss the slight twinge of Kurt’s features when he moves his left arm back to hook into a sleeve, even though their dads both seem to. He doesn’t know how he missed it before.

When Kurt is ready to go he looks up at Stiles, a shy tilt to his smile. Kurt may look a little shy all of a sudden, but he’s _smiling_ , and Stiles thinks it’s pretty awesome how much he’s seen Kurt smile over the course of the evening. But now they’re facing one another – looking like a pair of shy kids, scuffing their toes on the floor and hiding glances under lowered lashes – and all of a sudden there’s a kind of tension between them. It almost feels like it’s the end of a date, and neither of them is certain if they should kiss goodnight.

Except they _aren’t_ on a date. And their dads are standing a few feet away, so it wouldn’t be appropriate anyway. But Stiles doesn’t really want to just say goodnight and not at least include something a little more … meaningful. He almost steps forward to hug Kurt, but as much fun as they’ve had, they still don’t know each other that well, and Stiles isn’t certain Kurt wouldn’t shy away (or worse).

Stiles is saved from his own thoughts by Burt’s voice asking, “You about ready to go, kiddo?” Kurt’s eyes flicker away from Stiles, and he nods to his father.

“So, um, I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” Kurt asks, inflection sounding like he doesn’t expect Stiles to say yes. 

“Of course,” Stiles replies, smiling at Kurt, and he’s gratified to see the hint of a blush on the other boy’s cheeks.

“Okay.” Kurt steps towards the door before turning back, bottom lip caught between his teeth and a look of uncertainty painted across his features before he schools them. “We should have another movie night soon. It was fun.”

A full-fledged grin breaks out across Stiles’s face. “Yeah, it was!” he says with perhaps too much enthusiasm. Stiles is bouncing a little on his toes, excited now that Kurt has confirmed some desire to hang out again.

Kurt shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “Goodnight, Stiles,” he says. And then he finally turns once again towards the door and follows his dad out into the cool of the night. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I'm right at the end of a semester so life has been busy, and this chapter was fighting me. Also, apologies that it's a little filler-y, it needed to be so that the next chunk will work. The next chapter should be out a little faster :)
> 
> Edit: By the way, if anyone feels like chatting/flailing/etc. about glee, teen wolf, or whatever else I'm on tumblr under the same user name. :D

They fall fairly easily into a rhythm of being friends. There are hitches that they have to work through – like the next day at school when Stiles mentions how well their dads seem to know each other and Kurt clams up completely for the rest of the break between classes, and Stiles vows to himself to avoid the topic no matter how much he wants to know more. And the way Kurt is clearly still just a little bit hesitant about every interaction, like he isn’t quite sure what to expect when Stiles approaches, and like he doesn’t know how the rest of the school will react. (No one seems to notice or care, but Kurt still sometimes looks nervous.) Stiles tries not to push Kurt out of his comfort zone too much, but even so he often goes out of his way to cross paths with Kurt between classes, wanting to talk for those few minutes before the warning bell rings.

It doesn’t take long for Kurt to become used to Stiles’s appearances at his locker. Stiles can see when it becomes normal to Kurt because he stops looking startled and starts rolling his eyes whenever Stiles is there despite his next being the opposite end of the school. Kurt always reprimands him for his tardiness and Stiles just shrugs, grinning, and doesn’t leave until Kurt laughs and shoos him off down the hall towards the far end of the school where he’s supposed to be.

Spending more time with Kurt, and going out of his way to be around Kurt, rather than just sort of _watching_ Kurt in the cafeteria (which Scott still insists was a super creepy thing to do, but Stiles just threatens him with telling Allison all kinds of secrets and it shuts Scott up pretty quickly) has the effect of making it so Stiles sees more of the things that happen. It’s never anything big – not when it’s between classes and the halls are full of people (even though Stiles knows for a fact that that hasn’t stopped things from happening before) – but Stiles has seen the way some of the football players throw disgusted, menacing glances in Kurt’s direction. And he has seen the way Kurt seems to shrink in on himself when he sees some of the jocks nearby even if they haven’t seen him, as though he can make himself invisible and avoid detection.

But even with all the negative that Stiles knows exists in Kurt’s life, he thinks that maybe Kurt smiles and laughs more than he did before. He likes the way that Kurt smiles when he catches Stiles watching him from across the caf at lunch, and he likes the tentative little laugh that Kurt sometimes lets slip when they’re talking. Maybe it’s just that he notices it more now, but Stiles sometimes wonders if maybe he’s part of the reason that Kurt smiles more now. (He kind of, sort of, maybe ever so slightly hopes that he is.)

***

Stiles’s dad is scheduled to work late the following Saturday so Stiles takes advantage of the opportunity to invite Kurt over for another movie night. Kurt smiles at him – that bright, disarmed smile that makes his eyes crinkle just a little before he gets it under control – and nods once.  

“That sounds great,” Kurt says, sounding happy, if a little surprised. Stiles isn’t certain how Kurt can still seem to doubt that Stiles wants to spend time with him; it equally makes him ache with sadness that Kurt’s life has given him so much reason to doubt, and makes him smile because Kurt seems as excited as Stiles is at the prospect of hanging out outside of the halls of William McKinley High.

“We should exchange phone numbers,” Stiles says, “so that we can sort out details.” The pretense is all practicality, but Stiles has been trying for days to figure out how to ask for Kurt’s number, and he can’t hold back his excitement at the prospect of being able to text Kurt whenever he wants.

Kurt doesn’t respond until he has extricated his phone, offering it up almost shyly. "Put your number in?" Forcing his attention away from the hint of a blush creeping into Kurt’s cheeks, Stiles takes the phone and types in his information.

He tries not to notice how few contacts Kurt has saved, or how many of those few are family. (It doesn’t really mean anything, Stiles tells himself. A few good friends can be far better than having a lot of acquaintances.)

When he hands the phone back, Stiles watches Kurt's smile grow just a little as he sees contact information for "Stiles :D" still open on this screen. “So, um, just send me a text so I have your number,” Stiles says. “I should head to class, but … yeah.” Stiles back a step down the hall and then turns slowly, making his way towards his own locker.

Before turning the corner, he stops momentarily to look back at Kurt and catches sight of him staring intently down at the tiny screen of his phone, lip caught between his teeth. Stiles can’t keep a grin from creeping across his own face.

***

It’s halfway through class before Stiles feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. It takes him another five minutes to manage to get it _out_ of his pocket without getting caught by Mrs. Salvatore’s sharp-eyed gaze, and then he nearly gets himself caught anyway when he fumbles his phone in his excitement, barely catching it before it slips out of his grasp.  

**From Kurt:**

_I’m looking forward to Saturday._

The message isn’t much, but the sheer fact that it is from Kurt of all people – Kurt who is reserved and tentative, and who Stiles really wants to get to know better – makes it mean more than maybe it should. Stiles fidgets happily while he tries to work out what to send back. He has too many things he wants to say to Kurt, and almost none of them are appropriate to put in a text.

Eventually he just types out something mundane and hopes that maybe Kurt will read between the lines enough to understand that he means more than he’s saying.

**To Kurt:**

_Bring a movie if you want! What kind of ice cream should I get?_

**From Kurt:**

_It’s not fair if I pick the movie AND the ice cream._

**To Kurt:**

_I picked the ice cream last time. It’s your turn._

Stiles stares at the little screen, no longer even thinking to be discreet about his phone usage in class. The screen stays stubbornly unlit for what feels like far too long, and then three texts come through in rapid succession.

**From Kurt:**

_Then it’s your turn to choose a movie._

_Mint chocolate chip._

_… unless you hate it._

There’s a brief pause before a fourth text appears.

_Actually, I don’t care if you hate it. You asked what I wanted, and I want mint chocolate chip._

Stiles beams at his phone where it is half hidden under his desk. He likes that Kurt is bolder via text, and the back and forth they have going feels teasing and easy.

**To Kurt:**

_I hate mint chocolate chip._

**From Kurt:**

_Oh._

**To Kurt:**

_Kurt, I’m kidding._

**From Kurt:**

_Oh, ok. Good. Because I was trying not to care, but I don’t think I can be friends with anyone who hates mint chocolate chip ice cream._

**To Kurt:**

_:D_

Stiles thinks only briefly before he types out another message and sends it before he can reconsider.

_I probably would have pretended I liked it if it meant being friends with you._

**From Kurt:**

_Okay … good._

_I mean, it would be your loss. I’m fabulous._

**To Kurt:**

_I know._

Stiles can almost _see_ Kurt’s blush, and the fact that he’s starting to know what will make that blush appear thrills him almost as much as the fact that it feels more than a little bit like they are flirting.

**From Kurt:**

_:)_

***

Saturday morning finds Stiles up earlier than usual. Weekends are usually days spent reveling in laziness and lounging in bed until noon, but there’s an edge of excitement to the day, and Stiles can feel it prickling under his skin; making him giddy with the anticipation. It isn’t like he expects anything to really happen – nothing that might possibly go beyond friendship anyway – but that doesn’t stop the jittery feeling of _possibility_ in the pit of his stomach.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he ends up puttering around the house, arbitrarily straightening pillows and shaking out blankets. All of it elicits a questioning, confused look from his dad who is hardly used to seeing him out of bed on a weekend morning, much less dressed and cleaning the house (even if Stiles’s version of cleaning is currently more like moving things in circles).

By early afternoon, Stiles has run out of things to do to keep himself occupied. It takes all of about five minutes of him bouncing restlessly on a kitchen stool for his dad to pull out his sheriff voice and threaten him with unknown parental torment if Stiles doesn’t stop immediately.

Stiles hauls himself from his perch and winds up in the basement. He kicks around, digging through the various ancient books and belongings that neither he nor his dad have never gotten rid of out of some misplaced sense of nostalgia, and eventually unearths his N64. In no time at all, he’s button mashing his way through levels of Mario Kart and finally relaxing enough to lose track of time.

When his dad leaves, Stiles barely looks up long enough to call, “have a good shift!” towards the stairs where the Sheriff is standing in full uniform. The doorbell sounds two hours later, jolting Stiles from his video game induced haze, and he’s startled to find that it’s five, and therefore the doorbell is more than likely indicating Kurt’s arrival. Stiles scrambles up – abandoning his controller and powering off the console mid race – and dashes towards the front door. He manages only to trip once on his way up the stairs and then skids to a stop just before actually running into the door.

He takes a moment to compose himself, but he still looks disheveled – shirt twisted, and breathing just a little heavy from the sprint up the stairs – when he yanks open the door (with just a little too much energy, so it goes slamming into the wall). “Hey! Hi!” Stiles says in a breath, and Kurt looks startled for a second before he breaks into a smile and steps into the house when Stiles hold the door open in invitation.

Stiles watches Kurt strip off his jacket, and his eyes linger on the unusually casual outfit the boy has on – jeans that look slouchy but somehow also perfectly fitted, and a soft looking, chunky knit sweater that Stiles would paw at if he weren’t so certain that it would be vastly inappropriate to do so (his fingers itch to do it anyway). Stiles tugs idly at his own still-twisted and rucked up t-shirt and drags his eyes back to meet Kurt’s eyes, hoping he hasn’t been too obvious about his staring. Kurt seems to startle when Stiles moves to smooth out his shirt, eyes – wide and blue – suddenly snapping up to meet Stiles’s and staying for only a moment before abruptly jumping to stare intently at the coats hanging by the door. Kurt’s cheeks are tinged with pink, and he has his bottom lip sucked between his teeth; Stiles finds the whole image incredibly enticing, and really, none of it is helping the desire to reach out and _touch_.

Stiles heats up leftovers from the night before since Kurt has already eaten his own dinner, and then they settle in the living room. He likes watching the way Kurt immediately curls into his corner of the couch, at ease in Stiles’s house and in his company, without even a moment of hesitation.

***

They’re halfway through _She’s All That_ when Stiles realizes that Kurt’s body language has changed. He’s still all tucked up on the end of the couch but now it looks like it is out of discomfort, his body tense and face contorted. Stiles watches him, trying to figure out what it is that’s suddenly got Kurt on edge, until he becomes distracted by the way Kurt is chewing gently on the end of his thumb – white teeth dragging across the pad of it and nipping lightly at the skin.

He isn’t entirely aware of how long he spends watching Kurt’s mouth working over that thumb, but the action is definitely more than a little bit distracting. Stiles watches Kurt until he looks away from the television screen and tilts his head quizzically at Stiles asking, “Everything okay?”

“You look stressed,” Stiles tells him.

“Oh,” Kurt says, a blush creeping up his cheeks.  “I don’t do well with second hand embarrassment.” He gestures at the screen and then pauses for a moment, glancing down at his hands. “I’ve had more than enough of my own embarrassment to last me a life time as it is.” It’s the first time Stiles has ever heard Kurt make even the vaguest reference to the abuse he’s taken, and it throws him just a bit

“Kurt—” he says quietly, wanting to convince the boy to keep talking but not really knowing how. Kurt is looking at him now, and Stiles goes silent, lips pursed in thought and shoulders shrugging as though to dismiss his own unfinished response. Kurt watches him appraisingly and must see something telling in Stiles’s expression, because he smiles a little sadly, shrugging his own shoulders almost apologetically in response before turning slowly back to the TV, ending whatever moment there was where Stiles might have asked him to keep talking.

Stiles can’t seem to stop watching Kurt after that (not that he really could before). Eventually he puts in the next movie and grabs the ice cream, flipping off the lights on his way back in. Kurt doesn’t comment when Stiles settles back on the couch almost pressed up against his side, and Stiles pretends that he doesn’t wish that he was able to do more – that he doesn’t wish he could keep Kurt tucked up against him and somehow protect them both from harm and sadness.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Here's the next bit! I'll try to get the next chapter finished this week, but we'll see how that plan goes. I'm predicting this will end up having two more chapters, but given that this was originally intended to have all of three parts who knows what will happen. 
> 
> Anyway, here it is! Also, feel free to come hang out on tumblr. I'm loveinisolation there too :)

It’s different once he realizes it. It isn’t that Stiles didn’t know before that he was fascinated with Kurt, but once he fully acknowledges that he has delved more into the zone of “monstrous, overwhelming crush” than “friendly interest” it feels  like his whole world shifts just a little to accommodate it. Everything about his interactions with Kurt becomes just a little bit more meaningful, every time their eyes meet it feels charged, Kurt touches his arm – doing nothing more than taking lint from his sleeve – and Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin from the electric shiver that runs through him. Sometimes, Stiles finds himself zoning out into daydreams where he is allowed to heed the pull in his gut and reach out for Kurt.

But Stiles doesn’t know if Kurt has any feelings for him beyond friendship and isn’t about to go throwing himself at the boy either way. As much as maybe he might like to. Instead, he soaks in the little things: the way Kurt says his name, and way the edges of his lips curl up when he tries to hide a smile, the shy way Kurt tilts his face down and away when he’s feeling flustered – an action that Stiles first noticed weeks ago, but which he finds even more endearing now.

The reality, though, is that his crush changes almost nothing in his relationship with Kurt. For all that Stiles internally revels in all the little things Kurt does, it is their friendship that continues to deepen and settle, and Stiles’s less platonic inclinations easily find their way to the back burner. And even though Stiles sometimes feel his heart jolt when Kurt looks at him with fond exasperation, it’s just so easy to be friends that it hardly seems to matter that sometimes he wishes they were more, because what they _are_ is so amazing.

***

“You’ve got it so bad, dude,” Scott says one day at lunch. Stiles looks up from his burger to find Scott and Allison both watching him.

“What?” he asks around a mouthful of food, because really he thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of not being _completely_ obvious about it, and he hadn’t even been _looking_ at Kurt (actually, he doesn’t even know where Kurt _is_ at the moment).

Allison laughs – that high, pretty sound that makes Scott look at her all dopey and in love – and says, “You don’t hear yourself do you? You can’t stop talking about him. It’s kind of adorable.”

Stiles chews too few times and swallows hard around the lump of food that sticks in his throat. “I—” He doesn’t get a chance to think of the rest of what he’s going to say because he catches sight of Kurt heading towards them and immediately switches tracks. “Hi, Kurt!”

Scott gives him a disbelieving look. “Nice try, dude, but you aren’t getting out of – ow!” he says, cutting off when Allison smacks his arm pointedly. Scott looks annoyed for all of a second before he notices her subtle head tilt in Kurt’s direction and catches on. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Kurt says. He’s looking at Stiles mostly, but he keeps glancing over at Allison and Scott like he isn’t quite sure of how they’ll react to him being there. “Um, is it okay if I sit with you guys?”

Stiles has the sudden urge to scramble to his feet and offer Kurt his spot, only barely managing to tamp down the impulse before he actually does it and looks like an idiot. Instead, he nods enthusiastically. “Of course it’s okay.” He sees Kurt glance over at his friends again, obviously checking their reactions. Stiles does the same and catches Allison’s perky smile and Scott’s own slight, lopsided one, which he takes to mean they’re fine with Kurt joining them.

“Guys, this is Kurt,” Stiles says.

“Hi, I’m Allison, and this is Scott.” She gives a little wave across the table, and Scott nods in Kurt’s direction with a “hey.”

“Hi, it’s, um, nice to meet you,” Kurt says. Stiles can see Kurt fidgeting and tugging at the sleeve of the blue shirt he has on, and he has to grab his burger with both hands to keep from reaching out to tangle his fingers with Kurt’s to calm the nervous gesture.

“So, what’s up?” Stiles asks, taking a bite of his food.  He doesn’t want to outright ask if there’s a reason Kurt has decided to sit with them today, but he’s really kind of curious. (And also pretty damn happy. Because Kurt is having lunch with him at school, and Stiles didn’t even initiate it.)

“Not much. I—” Kurt’s eyes dart over to Scott and Allison, who are once again caught up in their own conversation. It’s clear to Stiles that Kurt isn’t quite comfortable – can see him putting up his slightly haughty mask of self-assurance and carefully swallowing down emotions – and it serves to drive home to him the difference between this Kurt and the one who had been curled up on his couch watching movies just days ago. Kurt sounds nonchalant, when he speaks again. It’s almost believable, but there’s a slight quaver in his voice that Stiles barely catches before it evens out. “I kind of went off at everyone during Glee yesterday. They’re all so worried about menial things, and they don’t even _see_ the big things happening right in front of them.” Kurt pauses and sucks in a breath, his voice turning quiet. “I just think there are more important things they could be focusing on.”

Stiles looks at Kurt, but the boy’s face is blank and his eyes are gazing out at the cafeteria rather than looking back at Stiles. “Well,” Stiles says, “I really hope your friends come around soon. But I won’t say I’m not happy about one particular side effect of you fighting with them …” Kurt turns to look at him, features twisted in confusion. Stiles gestures at the four of them seated around their section of cafeteria table. Kurt still looks confused, nose scrunched adorably he tries to decipher Stiles’s meaning. Stiles sucks in a breath and tries not to blush as he explains. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate that you’re fighting with your friends. That really sucks. But I, uh, like that it made you come have lunch with me.” He wants to stop there, but his mouth seems to have other plans, because he just keeps talking. “Because obviously I like hanging out with you, and between classes we can never talk for more than like five minutes. And I get that you have other friends, and so do I, but it’s still kind of awesome to get to eat lunch with you, too.” He finally cuts off his rambling and hides from Kurt’s reaction by taking a large mouthful of bun and lettuce. When he does eventually turn back, Kurt is looking down at the bench they’re both sitting on, watching his fingers trace aimless patterns against the laminate, and Stiles can see the heated pink tint to his cheeks.

“I actually meant to sooner,” Kurt says quietly without looking up, “and then this happened, and it was a good excuse to finally actually do it.” Stiles stares at Kurt; he’s not quite able to believe that he’s hearing confirmation that Kurt has been thinking about ways to spend more time with him.  Kurt glances up, his blush intensifying. “Sorry,” he mutters. Stiles isn’t completely sure what he’s apologizing for.

“Kurt, I just told you that I was _glad_ your friends were mad at you because it got you to have lunch with me. I’m pretty sure that means you don’t need to apologize for saying you wanted to have lunch with me, too.” Stiles hears Allison giggle across the table, reminding him they aren’t alone. He looks over to find her watching them with one eyebrow raised pointedly as though the two of them have just proved her point. The moment Kurt turns to look at her – arms crossed over his body as though he too just remembered they weren’t alone and is now uncomfortable again – she drops the eyebrow and gains her usual dimpled smile.          

“So, Kurt,” Allison says, “I heard the glee club made it through to Regionals. Do you have any idea what you guys are going to perform?” It isn’t the smoothest redirection, but Allison is smiley and genuine so it’s far less awkward than it might have been. Kurt splutters, surprised, and looks over at Stiles as though asking for an explanation. Allison laughs lightly. “Stiles didn’t tell me if that’s what you’re thinking. I sit near Sam in geography, and he mentioned it the other day.”

“I didn’t even know about this!” Stiles says, turning to Kurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kurt shrugs, and he sounds almost a little sad when he says “I didn’t think anyone actually cared about how the glee club was doing. Except for the members – actually, sometimes they don’t care either.”

“Stiles totally cares about you!” Scott chimes in from across the table.  Stiles wants to groan because _really Scott?_ Instead he shoots a quick glare at his best friend and runs one hand through his hair as he tries to work out what to say that won’t just be babbling nonsense.

“What Scott _means_ , is that – as your friend – I want to hear about things like how your club is doing. I like knowing about the stuff that’s important to you.”

“So I can talk to you about things like glee and fashion?” Kurt asks, smiling a little, but sounding as though he needs to confirm it before he actually takes Stiles up on the offer.

“I mean, I may not understand all of it. But, Kurt, you can talk to me about _anything_.” Kurt ducks his head, but a moment later he looks up, and all Stiles can see is bright blue eyes and a beaming smile.

***

It isn’t that they talk more from that point on; it’s that that what they say _means_ more.

It happens in stages. Stiles doesn’t catch on at first it’s so subtle, but then one day he asks Kurt a question about how Carole’s big project at work is going, and it suddenly becomes clear that Kurt has been sharing more information about himself and his life, and that Stiles has been absorbing and memorizing every detail he can.

After that, Stiles starts to realize that Kurt doesn’t directly talk about himself so much as he just kind of throws details in here and there, and the most important details – the ones that Stiles holds close as markers that their friendship means as much to Kurt as it does to him – are often said almost as throwaway lines in the midst of Stiles’s bouts of rambling.

Kurt still keeps things close; he doesn’t say things just for the sake of saying them, especially when they’re about him. When Kurt does reveal things, Stiles does his best to listen and to be there without pushing for information Kurt isn’t willing to give.

***

Given how much more they know about each other– how much more Kurt shares with Stiles, and how much Stiles tells Kurt in turn – it maybe shouldn’t surprise Stiles as much as it does when he finds himself to be the person Kurt confides in.

It starts with a message on a Tuesday evening when Stiles knows that Kurt and Finn will have just gotten back from glee.

**From Kurt:**

_Can I come over?_

**To Kurt:**

_Yeah, of course. What’s up?_

Nearly ten minutes later there’s no response, and Stiles doesn’t know what to make of that.

**To Kurt:**

_Kurrrt?_

_Kurt, why are you coming over on a Tuesday?_

_Not that I don’t want to see you, I just want to know if you’re okay._

It takes another couple of minutes for a response to buzz in, and Stiles has to distract himself by trying to turn the world’s population into zombies so that he doesn’t just keep sending Kurt more messages until he gets a response.

**From Kurt:**

_Had to deal with Finn. Tell you when I get there._

It isn’t any clearer as a response, but Stiles knows it’s all he’s going to get for the moment. He tries to ignore the niggling feeling in his gut telling him that something is wrong and goes back to his game, jabbing just a little too hard at the touch screen in his worry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently no matter what I think I'm going to do it takes me two weeks to write a chapter. Sorry about that. This one definitely gave me some trouble and it is far from my favourite thing, but here it is! Hopefully it isn't disappointing. There should be one more proper chapter and an epilogue after this :)

Stiles gives up on the game completely after a few minutes, too distracted by what Kurt might be coming over to talk about to be able to think about anything else. Even when that something else involves zombies. He lies of his bed, sprawled out over the unmade covers while his brain ping pongs between potential scenarios. He considers everything from something to do with Burt’s heart to – in a brief moment of hopeful insanity – thinking that, just maybe, Kurt is going to burst through the door unable to contain his feelings anymore and kiss him. (Stiles berates himself for thinking it when there are far more important things than his crush happening.)

His brain continues to whirr unhelpfully, and Stiles ends up sitting on the edge of his bed, leg bouncing and body thrumming with anxiety and impatience. He jolts when the doorbell rings, feet nearly sliding out from under him when he jumps up. Stiles is at the door within seconds, throwing it open and barely resisting dragging Kurt inside and into a hug just to confirm that he’s still whole and breathing and okay.

Kurt lets himself be tugged inside and says “hey” in a voice that is clearly trying to sound normal but falls just short of the mark, coming out thin and strained instead. When Stiles gets a good look at his face (and he tries not to stare, he does, but he can’t help drinking in the lines of Kurt’s face as he checks him over for visible injury) he can see that Kurt’s eyes are a hint too shiny and mouth downturned in unhappiness.

“Kurt, what happened?” Stiles asks by way of greeting, too worried to not just dive right in and ask. He doesn’t have patience for small talk; he just needs to know that everything is all right or how he can fix it if it isn’t.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Kurt says dismissively, eyes fixing on a point past Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles cuts him off before he can keep going, knowing that Kurt if more than capable of downplaying the situation to the point of simply ignoring it. It’s patently obvious from the fact that Kurt even considered talking about it – even though he clearly spent the drive over talking himself out of that decision – that whatever it is has Kurt pretty shaken.

“Kurt, it was a big enough deal for you to send me cryptic messages and then blow off Finn to come over here pretty much as soon as you got home from Glee. And the look on your face tells me that something is really wrong. So clearly it _is_ important.” Stiles pauses for a moment, hoping Kurt will speak up. When he doesn’t, Stiles jumps back in, heart lurching at the lost sort of look on Kurt’s face, and voice turning quiet and pleading. “I just need to know that you’re okay.”

Kurt’s over-bright gaze shifts from the wall to Stiles’s face, and Stiles can see him take a deep breath and then sag just a little as he gives in. “I’m okay,” Kurt says eventually. Stiles relaxes incrementally to hear the confirmation, but he’s still wound tight and waiting.

“And your dad?”

“Is fine too,” Kurt confirms, but there’s an edge to his voice that Stiles can read to mean that whatever it is that happened involved Burt somehow.  Stiles doesn’t say anything, he just watches Kurt as the boy crosses his arms protectively over his chest; it’s the kind of defensive gesture that Kurt rarely does around Stiles these days and it makes him look small somehow. There’s a long silent moment before Kurt speaks again. “They vandalized my house again.” Stiles doesn’t have to ask who “they” are; he knows it’s the same guys who harass Kurt at school, and who used to routinely alter, damage and destroy the Hummels’ property. “It’s been almost a year since something like this happened. I thought they had stopped. My dad—” Kurt’s voice cracks and the remains of his mask of detachment begins to visibly crumble “—my dad could hardly stand it the first time around. He was so happy when it was over; he thought it meant things had changed.” Kurt is beginning to sound frantic, the calm exterior slipping away completely as he recounts the story. “You don’t know how stressed he was by all of it – how much it hurt him to get phone calls at the garage telling him his son was a fag.” Stiles watches Kurt tighten his arms around himself, hugging them in tighter as though he can protect himself from the memories. “And now his heart … and I don’t—” Kurt makes a little choked sound.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Stiles says. He wants to pull Kurt into a hug and not let him go, but he settles for reaching out and putting a hand on Kurt’s arm, squeezing gently before dropping it again.

Kurt looks up at the touch and keeps eye contact – eyes bright and a little scared – as he speaks. “I just don’t know if his heart can take it if he has to start dealing with that again.”

Stiles watches Kurt intently, thinking only briefly before saying softly, “You shouldn’t have to deal with it either.”

Their eyes are still locked as Kurt shrugs, mouth twisting sadly. “I’m used to worse.” There’s no denial anymore. No pretense that Stiles doesn’t know about the bullying – the outright abuse – that he has taken. 

This time, Stiles doesn’t even think about when he reaches out with both hands to tug Kurt towards him and wrap him in a hug.

It’s comforting to have Kurt safe and warm in his arms. It’s even better when Kurt settles against him, tension slowly slipping out of his body as his arms slide around Stiles’s waist, and face turned in against a shoulder.

***

Kurt ends up staying just to hang out for a while even though they don’t really talk about it much more. Stiles thinks maybe he’s avoiding going home where he’ll have to talk to Burt, but he’s not about to bring it up when Kurt already looks so tired and vulnerable. Instead, he lets Kurt curl silently into the corner of the couch and hands him the TV remote. They end up watching a marathon of _What Not to Wear_ and Stiles keeps up a constant stream of commentary even though he knows nothing at all about fashion. Maybe it’s the fact that he tries anyway, even though he’s blatantly failing miserably (he _likes_ the stupid wolf t-shirt they just threw out, okay?), that finally makes Kurt smile.

Stiles’s dad gets home right as they’re ending their second episode. It’s later than he was meant to be home – after seven already – and there’s a peculiar look on his face when he catches sight of Kurt. Stiles doesn’t know what it means. 

“Hey, dad. Sorry I haven’t started dinner yet; I kind of lost track of time,” Stiles says, hoisting himself up off the couch. “Do you want chicken caesar salad or pasta?” His dad gives him a flat look, and Stiles raises his hands defensively. “Okay, fine. Pasta,” he says with a sigh. “But it’s going to have a ton of vegetables in it!” Stiles looks to Kurt, who is slowly pushing himself to his feet, teetering a little and looking completely wrung out. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“I should probably head home,” Kurt says. He doesn’t sound terribly happy at the prospect, and Stiles can tell from the way he’s squaring his shoulders and tilting his chin up that he’s gearing up for the conversation he’s going home to.

Stiles walks Kurt to the door, and there’s a moment where he feels suspended. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets as he sways forward slightly, and their eyes are holding contact.  Kurt lifts a hand, extending it just a little towards Stiles before dropping it again as he steps backwards towards the open door. “Thank you,” Kurt says, breaking eye contact to look down at his feet.

“No problem. Anytime! I mean, not that I hope this situation will ever come up again. I hope it doesn’t, but you can always talk to me. Is what I mean.” Stiles stutters awkwardly to a stop, barely suppressing a groan at his own inability to just stop talking.

Kurt smiles a little crookedly at him. “I’ll let you know how it goes with my dad, okay?”

Stiles nods, another moment of eye contact passing before Kurt finally turns and heads out into the fading light.

***

There’s already a pot of water boiling on the stove when Stiles goes to start dinner, and his dad is perched on a stool at the island counter obviously waiting for him. Stiles starts pulling vegetables out of the fridge and just waits for him to start talking.

“So I was over at the Hummels’ this evening,” he says eventually.

“Oh yeah?”

“Seems there was another incident of property damage.” Stiles stays quiet, the sound of him dicing tomato loud in the silence.  He can feel his dad’s stare on the back of his head; the sheriff waiting him out as though it was an interrogation. “Stiles, what do you know?”

“It’s not really—” Stiles huffs a breath, “I don’t really _know_ anything, okay.”

“I just want to help, kid. So if you know anything at all that could help us …” he trails off meaningfully.

Stiles puts his knife down and whirls around to face his dad. “I really don’t know much more than you do, all right? And I really don’t know if it would be my place to tell you if I did.” He knows he sounds tired and a little too aggravated for the situation, but he really just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

“Stiles, anything at all—”

“I know, okay?  I just … I need to talk to Kurt first.” His dad stays still for a long moment just watching him, and Stiles starts to squirm under the look, turning back to his cutting board when he can’t handle it any longer. It’s another minute before Stiles hears his dad make his way across the kitchen and then feels a hand land gently on his shoulder.

“Sometimes I think you’re a little too loyal for your own good. But at least no one will ever fault you that.” He knows his dad is thinking of all the times Stiles has covered for Scott: the times he has taken the blame for things he didn’t do to save friends even though his dad clearly knew the truth. None of those situations were ever anything like this one, and a big part of Stiles just wants to spill everything he knows, but he wasn’t lying about needing to talk to Kurt first. He needs Kurt to know what’s going on: needs to know Kurt is okay with it before he does anything at all. “Let me know when dinner is ready,” his dad says. And then he makes his way towards the living room, leaving Stiles to his thoughts.

 ***

Stiles is already lying in bed with his laptop perched on his chest when his phone buzzes.

**From Kurt:**

_Talked to my dad. He isn’t happy, but everything is okay._

**To Kurt:**

_What did you tell him?_

**From Kurt:**

_Same thing I used to tell him. That teenagers are idiots._

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment. He’s glad that everything is okay, but honestly he was hoping that Kurt would just tell Burt everything. He’s really not sure how much longer he can live with this constant worry (or how much longer Kurt can survive constant fear and abuse): not when there’s a solution to be had if only Kurt would take it.

Stiles must get caught up in thinking because another text comes through before he can even consider thumbing out a response.

_I know I should tell him._

Apparently Kurt deciding to drop the pretense with Stiles earlier wasn’t a one-time deal, and Stiles is glad of that. If nothing else it means he doesn’t have to pretend not to know for fear of Kurt retreating into himself; they can actually talk about the situation at hand and maybe together they can figure out a solution.

**To Kurt:**

_I really think you should._

**From Kurt:**

_I know. But I’m just … not ready to tell him._

_I might be ready to tell you though._

Stiles sucks in a breath. Maybe it’s not quite what he was hoping for, but if Kurt is ready to talk, he’s more than willing to listen. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last actual chapter! There's still an epilogue to come though. 
> 
> I'm also considering turning this into a 'verse since I really adore writing these two. So if you have anything you would like to see please let me know! (Either here or you can message me at loveinisolation.tumblr). 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, liking and commenting!

It’s an hour of texts followed by a phone call that happens later at night than is strictly acceptable, but then Stiles knows everything. He knows everything from the first dumpster toss up to the bright pink spray painted slurs and crudely drawn penises that had appeared on the driveway that afternoon (apparently without a single person in the neighbourhood noticing, though how that is possible escapes them both). He knows who the worst bullies are and which guys will just stand by and jeer but will never actually throw a slushie. He knows way too much, but the one thing he still doesn’t know is how to fix it.

When Kurt finishes telling him, voice turning quiet and exhausted as he yawns into the phone, Stiles is really only left with one question. “Why me?”

“What?” Kurt asks on another yawn.

“Why did you feel comfortable telling me all of this? Why not someone from glee, or even Finn or your dad? I mean, I’m glad you did. But I guess I just want to know why.”

There’s a long silence on the other end, and Stiles just listens to Kurt’s even breaths while he waits. “You’re the only one who really listens,” Kurt says eventually. “I love everyone in glee, but as a whole we’re a pretty self-centered bunch. When they want to know something, they poke and prod until you tell them, but they don’t ever really _listen_. You do. And you just … you understand things that no one else really does, like what it’s like to worry about the only parent you have left.” Stiles can picture Kurt on the other end of the phone, watching his hand pick at invisible lint on his jeans, and a blush climbing his cheeks. It’s a completely adorable mental image, and Stiles wishes he could _actually_ seeKurt right now. “You understand _me_ in a way no one else does.”

It kind of hurts how much Stiles cares about this boy; a physical ache that he can’t shake and isn’t entirely sure he wants to.  He swallows down words that he is nowhere near ready to say and tries to find something to replace them with.

“Sorry, that was—I shouldn’t have—” Kurt says after a couple of seconds of silence while Stiles is still thinking his words through. He still sounds sleepy, but Kurt is clearly suddenly more aware: realizing what he just said and, apparently, worried that it had somehow been unwelcome.

“Kurt,” Stiles says, stopping the boy before he can start worrying too much. “I feel the same way.” There’s an audible intake of breath on Kurt’s end, and then a quiet “okay” and the shuffling sounds of Kurt settling himself more comfortably on his bed. Stiles smiles, the side of his face pressed deep into his pillow, and his whole body warm with contentment.

Kurt yawns again, a high kittenish sound that makes Stiles chuckle and then leaves him grinning so widely it might just split his face if he doesn’t stop soon. He probably wouldn’t even mind if his face got mangled if Kurt being completely adorable was the cause. “You should sleep.”

Kurt makes a noise of agreement, and it’s clear he’s mostly asleep already. “Stay on the phone?” It’s a request Stiles knows that Kurt would never make if he weren’t half asleep and worn out from emotion and the lateness of the hour.

“Of course,” he says, picturing the sleepy smile on Kurt’s face. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Night. ‘n thanks.”

“Anytime,” Stiles tells him.

Kurt drifts off within minutes, and Stiles can just barely hear his breath turning deep and slow. It takes Stiles longer, his brain unwilling to stop spinning with all of the information he has learned in the last few hours.

When he eventually does fall asleep, it’s with his phone still pressed to his ear and thoughts of the boy on the other end drifting into happy dreams.

***

They’re both exhausted the next day, smiling tiredly at each other when they meet at Kurt’s locker. There are dark circles under Kurt’s eyes, pronounced against his pale skin, that Stiles wants to thumb away even though he knows it wouldn’t work even if he were to try.

He does stand closer than usual, leaning against the locker right next to Kurt’s and ducking his head close while they speak in quiet voices scratchy from lack of sleep. It’s strangely intimate for all that they are in a high school hallway filled with chattering teenagers, and Stiles doesn’t want to leave. For once, Kurt doesn’t even try to make him leave on time. They both end up late for class.

***

The rest of the week is uneventful, passing in a blur of classes preparing them for end of term projects and papers that will no doubt get written last minute even though they’ve been given weeks to do them.

On Friday, Kurt is jittery but doesn’t give any other indication that anything is wrong or that he wants to talk about whatever it is. Stiles would worry about the fact that Kurt seems nervous, but when Kurt smiles it’s still something real and wholly unlike the fake smile he still sometimes wears as a mask, so Stiles lets it go in favour of pleasant conversation about not much of anything at all.

***

Stiles doesn’t find out what it had Kurt nervous until late Sunday morning. His dad came home late from work again the night before and was back out early even though he doesn’t usually even work on Sunday at all. Stiles is alone in the house, still wearing pajamas and blearily watching TV when there’s a loud knock on the door.

He pushes himself up and starts shuffling over, stretching and tripping over the edge of the rug in the living room only to end up stumbling and smacking lightly into the wall. He leans there for a moment, forehead resting against the wall, before pushing off and continuing towards the door, one wrist throbbing gently from the collision.

When he pulls the door open he is nearly bowled over by a very energetic Kurt who practically flings himself into the house.

“I did it!”

Stiles blinks at him, feeling rather distinctly like he’s missed something. “Did what?”

“I told my dad!” Kurt says, voice excited and a little louder than usual.

“Wait, you told your dad—”

“Everything!” Kurt exclaims. “I told my dad everything.” Stiles finally feels like he’s waking up, and now that he’s looking at Kurt properly he can see how much _lighter_ he looks. The way Kurt is nearly bouncing, face bright and open and looking somehow so much younger than he ever has, like having told his dad has taken away some of the burden that forced him to grow up too young.

“That’s amazing, Kurt!” Stiles says.

“And your dad! We told him too, and he thinks there might actually be something they can do.” And then, suddenly, Stiles has an armful of Kurt. It doesn’t last long, just the briefest excited squeeze of a hug with Kurt exclaiming another “thank you!” in his ear before he’s stepping away.

Stiles heads over to the couch, gesturing for Kurt to follow, and plunks down unceremoniously. Kurt settles beside him, legs stretched out in front of him. Stiles can’t help but let his eyes trail up the long line of them before dragging his gaze back to Kurt’s face only to find that Kurt is doing the same thing to him, a blush painted high on his cheeks. Stiles doesn’t get it for a moment, but then he glances down and is suddenly rather painfully aware that he’s sitting next to Kurt still dressed only in the t-shirt and boxers he slept in.

“Oh, um. I should go get dressed. Just give me two minutes?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer from Kurt, just jumps up and takes off to his room, scrambling around for something relatively clean and matching to wear.

Kurt doesn’t stay long after that, just long enough to fill Stiles in on how his conversation with Burt went and what the Sheriff thinks they might be able to do. It isn’t much, admittedly. They don’t have much in the way of proof beyond Kurt’s word and the occasional witness like Stiles. It’s enough for a couple minor property damage charges that probably won’t take, and probably enough to get the worst bullies expelled and the others put under careful watch.

It won’t solve all of the problems. Not by far. But at the very least it means that there’s a support system in place – a slowly growing network of people watching out for them in their little town and building some sort of awareness. It isn’t much, but it’s a damn sight better than nothing, and if it keeps making Kurt smile like he is, Stiles is pretty sure it could count for everything.

***

It isn’t surprising to Stiles when Kurt settles next to him at lunch on Monday, but it is surprising how close he sits, and it’s clear from Scott’s face that he agrees.  Allison hides a smile behind her sandwich, but her eyes still give her reaction away. It only gets more surprising when Kurt talks as much to Scott and Allison – and even Isaac, when he joins them part way through lunch – as he does to Stiles.

Both of their dads had been in that morning talking to Principal Figgins, and at least one boy has been suspended until further notice. Stiles still wishes that there were more he could do, but Kurt seems happy enough with how things have turned out: still more vibrant and less weighed down by worry than Stiles has ever seen him.

“—right, Stiles?” Stiles hears, just as a hand settles on his wrist, drawing his attention back from his own thoughts. It’s Kurt’s hand, and it lingers innocently on his long enough for Stiles to get lost in the feel of it even though he knows he’s meant to be answering a question.

Scott snickers, finally breaking Stiles’s trance, and he looks over to find Scott, Allison and Isaac all looking amused, and Kurt still looking like he’s waiting for an answer. “Sorry, what?”

Kurt rolls his eyes but smiles fondly, fingers skating across the back of Stiles’s wrist and nearly causing Stiles to get lost to daydreams yet again.

***

By the end of the week things have mostly settled down. The suspension had turned into expulsion and detention for some of the others, plus there are new anti-bullying policies under review even though no one is sure how effective they’ll really be.  For the time being, at least, the threat of locker shoves and dumpster tosses is greatly diminished and Kurt’s burden is lessened by having shared it. All in all, it feels like cause for celebration.

Celebration happens in the form of another movie night, at Kurt’s request, and so Saturday night finds the pair of them curled up on the couch, a tub of ice cream propped between them the only thing keeping them from sitting hip to hip. They watch _Fight Club_ and then _Cabaret_ and it’s possibly among the strangest combinations of movies they might have chosen, but it’s also just so perfectly _them_.

By halfway through _Cabaret_ Kurt is beginning to drift off as he so often does during movie nights. Usually he curls into the corner of the couch, tucked in on himself as he dozes but tonight is different. As they had at lunch every day that week, they sat close together on the couch, legs knocking and arms brushing every time one of them moved. Now, Kurt is slumped against Stiles, head resting on his shoulder and body pressed warm and close as his eyes drop shut. Stiles wraps an arm around Kurt’s waist and welcomes the comforting weight of the boy against his side, and if – when Kurt starts snoring lightly – Stiles turns and buries in face against the top of Kurt’s head, well, no one needs to know how much more it makes him want.

At the end of the movie, Stiles reluctantly wakes Kurt up, shaking him gently until he rouses. “It’s late, Kurt.”

“Don’ wanna move,” Kurt says into Stiles’s shoulder. And really, Stiles agrees wholeheartedly. He almost says as much, but he chuckles instead and slowly extricates himself from Kurt’s sleepy clutches, forcing the boy to wake up enough not to fall over. “Mean,” Kurt tells him.

“Sorry.”

Kurt sighs melodramatically, but it quickly turns into a smile. “S’ok. I should head home.” Kurt stretches, and Stiles tries not to stare too intently at the way his shirt rides up (all it reveals is undershirt, but that’s still layers closer to skin than Stiles usually sees and he can’t help but imagine the feel of the fabric against his fingers, warmed  by Kurt’s body heat and thin enough to hardly be a barrier. His fingers tingle at the thought).  

“Thanks for tonight,” Kurt says when they’re standing near the door.

“We needed to celebrate. Besides, I always like hanging out with you.” A soft smiles creeps across Kurt’s face and Stiles grins in answer. “I really am glad that you told your dad and that everything is getting better. I know that it was hard for you.”

Kurt toes lightly at the floor. “It wouldn’t have happened without you,”

“It has nothing to do with me; it was all you. It might have taken a little longer, but it would have happened.” Kurt nods, looking at Stiles appraisingly, looking like he’s truly considering what Stiles said.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says eventually. “I should go.”

“Ok,” Stiles says, “goodnight, Kurt.”

There’s another beat of silence, and Kurt’s eyes flicker across Stiles’s face, assessing briefly before turning decisive in a flash. Kurt steps forward and before Stiles can even process it soft lips are pressed against his own, and Kurt’s palm is hot against his neck, fingertips just barely catching in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Stiles’s hands grapple at Kurt’s waist and try to tug him closer. He can feel Kurt’s smile against his lips in the moment before the kiss ends.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” Kurt whispers in a breath, stepping back and then disappearing into the night, leaving Stiles, stunned and grinning, still staring out the open door. 


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me absolutely FOREVER. There really isn't any excuse other than life getting extremely busy and me losing any motivation to write as a result. Hopefully this isn't too much of a letdown after so long a wait - it isn't what I intended the epilogue to be, but I am happy with it, so I hope you enjoy it too!

Even though Kurt made the first move – even though he was the one that put himself on the line and kissed Stiles without any guarantee of reciprocation, it still takes Stiles until the middle of the week to actually work up the nerve to say anything about it.

To be fair, Stiles thinks, Kurt hadn’t said anything either. But then maybe he had the excuse that he was waiting for Stiles to give some sort of indication that he’d been okay with the kiss – that maybe he would be okay with more.

Despite all that – despite the relative certainty Stiles has that Kurt will say yes to actually going on a date – it still takes him until Wednesday to bring it up. It’s three whole days of being stuck in his own head, pacing around the house practicing what he’s going to say, and trying to act like everything is the same even when it feels like nothing is (it’s better, and could be still more amazing if only Stiles could get it together).

By Tuesday even his dad has started noticing the squirrely behaviour, commenting wryly on the state of the flooring if Stiles continues to walk the same circuit of the living room. When he finds Stiles muttering to himself while making eggs Wednesday morning he rolls his eyes and says “God help me, this is even worse than with that Martin girl.”

Stiles breaks off his muttering to call an offended “hey!” at his dad’s retreating back, but he really can’t argue with the Sheriff’s assessment of the situation. He’s being ridiculous, and he knows it.

Now he just needs to do something about it.

***

Stiles is determined by the time he makes it to school, stride a little more purposeful as he makes his way to Kurt’s locker as he usually does in the morning. Kurt is just unpacking his bag when Stiles arrives at his side, and he barely glances at Stiles even as he gives a chipper “good morning!”

Stiles isn’t quite as put together as he would like to be, immediately stumbling over the simplest greeting and jumping into a rambling attempt at saying the things they’ve been dancing around. “Hey, good morning! So I wanted to talk to you about something—ask you something, I mean. Because obviously we talk all the time, so um …” he takes a deep breath, “I was sort of thinking that maybe this weekend we could, y’know, go out. Or something.” Kurt raises one eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest and a slight smile playing at the edges of his lips. Stiles looks up and catches the expression, feeling a little confused as he waits for an answer.

Kurt leaves him hanging for a beat and then says, “that’s it, huh?”

Stiles frowns, thinking over exactly what he said. It takes a moment, but suddenly he’s confronted with the memory of trying to ask Lydia out and her not even realizing that that had been what he was doing. Kurt at least seems to know what Stiles is asking, but that’s little consolation. Stiles groans, feeling himself blush slightly with embarrassment at both the memory and the current situation – Kurt still watching him with a teasingly unimpressed look while Stiles tries to figure out what to say.

“Sorry,” Stiles says. He isn’t quite looking at up Kurt when he goes on. “I just meant that I would, um, very much like to take you on a date. This weekend. If that is something that you would be interested in. Because obviously I shouldn’t assume anything just becau—”

“Stiles?” Stiles snaps his head up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly mid-word. A smile breaks across Kurt’s face and he laughs lightly. “I was joking.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, and then he registers what Kurt is saying and asks “so?”

The bell rings; Kurt grins at Stiles and then spins on his heel, walking down the hall towards his class with his books held loosely in his arms. He takes a couple of steps before turning, walking backwards despite the hazard of other students, to call back “see you later, Stiles!”

Stiles stares down the hall after Kurt in a daze until someone accidentally knocks him, jarring him back out of his thoughts just in time to dash off to his own class.

***

Stiles is fidgety (even more so than usual), bouncing his leg and toying with his pen while the teacher takes attendance. He wishes he could get up and leave, go off and find Kurt and finish the conversation they were in the middle of. Or maybe rewind and start the day over – the week over, even – and ask Kurt out right away without all the fumbling and stalling.

It’s too late for that now, though. With no other immediate solution, Stiles pulls his phone from his pocket, sliding his thumb across the screen and pulling up the message window only to find that he isn’t really sure what to write.

He’s erasing his second attempt at a message when his phone buzzes in his hand, startling him as he scrambles to silence it.

**From Kurt:**

_So Saturday?_

**To Kurt:**

_Is that a yes?_

**From Kurt:**

_Maybe that depends on what you had planned …_

**To Kurt:**

_We can do whatever you want!_

He realizes a moment later how that might sound – like he doesn’t care enough to make a plan himself and it immediately sets him into rambling mode.

_Not that I don’t have a plan!_

_Just, I mean, this isn’t about ME. Or not JUST me._

_So we could do something that we both want to do._

Stiles manages to wait all of about thirty seconds before he sends off the next text.

_Kuuuuuuurt_

It’s a full seven minutes before the next text comes in (not that Stiles timed it), and the message takes him completely by surprise.

**From Kurt:**

_Come out to the hall._

Stiles makes a quiet questioning noise, and then, without thinking about it,he flings his hand into the air and asks to go to the washroom, scrambling out towards the hall before the teacher has even finished saying yes. He stops abruptly when he glances around and sees only an empty hall, but then Kurt is there, appearing around the end of a bank of lockers, a coy little smile playing at his lips.

“Hi,” Kurt says.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Stiles asks, searching Kurt’s face for some hint of what this is about.

Kurt shrugs and ducks his head a little. “I dunno.” He glances up at Stiles and meets his eyes, and Stiles can see that the front of teasing bravado that Kurt has been holding onto all morning – the purposefully coy way he had avoided ever quite answering Stiles, toying with him just a little – has slipped away and then he’s just _Kurt_ , standing there with a light pink flush creeping up to colour his cheeks, and his voice soft but not quite unsure like it used to be. “I just wanted to be able to see you when I said yes.”

“And how do you know I haven’t changed my mind?” Stiles says quietly, his smile a dead giveaway to his lie.

“Stiles,” Kurt says, and it’s the most singularly effective word Stiles has ever heard – his own name said on a laugh by the boy he’s maybe a little crazy for.

He doesn’t hesitate. Stiles gently grasps the lapel of Kurt’s jacket and tugs him forward a step, watching Kurt’s gaze flicker down to his mouth as he leans in. The kiss is languid and very nearly chaste until Stiles feels the lightest flick of Kurt’s tongue against his bottom lip. He angles just a little to get better access, pressing in just a bit harder, parting his lips a bit more and reveling in the way Kurt responds.

It doesn’t last long – they’re in the hallway at school and they only haven’t been caught because everyone is in class and Stiles’s class happens to be in the corner of the school farthest from the main office and staff room.  It’s only a couple of minutes before they pull apart, both breathing a little hard and smiling a little giddily.

“I should get back to class,” Kurt says, voice rasping slightly and not sounding terribly pleased at the prospect.

“Right, class, yes,” Stiles says. He uncurls his hand from Kurt’s lapel, petting at it to smooth it back down even though the lapel won’t change the widened pupils or slightly swollen lips that are bound to give them away.

“So, I’ll see you after class then,” Kurt’s eyes drift down when Stiles licks his lips, then drag back up to Stiles’s, a soft smile playing at his lips. “And then we can talk about that date.”

Stiles grins and leans in to press one more brief kiss to Kurt’s smile before stepping back towards the door of his classroom.

*******

The date goes off without a hitch. Well, okay, not _quite_ without a hitch. But’s it’s still pretty damn perfect as far as Stiles is concerned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support, your comments and your likes! 
> 
> Come hang out on tumblr if you want! I'm loveinisolation there too :)


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